


Blame it on the hickey

by waysteria



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romantic Comedy, rich kids, the big mystery of who gave hendery a hickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waysteria/pseuds/waysteria
Summary: Guanheng shows up with a hickey. Dejun is accused as the culprit, which doesn't happen to be a good look in front of his actual crush - Kun.
Relationships: Qian Kun/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun, hendery's boyfriend is secret
Comments: 24
Kudos: 226





	Blame it on the hickey

**Author's Note:**

> aye hello here's some xiaokun

Dejun, renowned adviser of every one of his friends when it comes to _boys_ , misses all the warning signs.

It’s Thursday night, just another normal, typical Thursday night, when they sit in a private room at the main restaurant of the golf club. It’s rare for them to eat here, considering that Yukhei, Ten and Guanheng are the perfectly precise combination to end up drinking rather than eating, but Dejun gives it to them that they manage to behave for an admirable amount of time tonight.

That’s it until Dejun sees the small red bruise peeking out under Guanheng’s collar, and Yukhei, who is telling Dejun one of his awful jokes, follows the direction of his stare. In an attempt to evade the upcoming disaster, Dejun looks away so fast that the room spins around him, but it’s too late: Yukhei’s big, expressive eyes land on the undeniable hickey, and his whole expression shifts to a mixture of shock and excitement.

“What do you have there?” he says, reaching out to grab Guanheng’s collar. Guanheng plants his hands over his chest to protect himself, still disoriented, but Yukhei’s hands are big and powerful, and he only has to tug down a bit to reveal Guanheng’s hickey. “Oh my god.”

Guanheng looks down at his own chest, confused, but midway he seems to remember what could be so alarming about his body. His cheeks turn scarlet, his ears burn red, and he swats Yukhei’s hand away with a huff. Before Yukhei can accuse him, Hendery pulls his shirt up with as much dignity as he can gather.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Ten echoes, just as shocked.

Dejun doesn’t find it extremely scandalizing, but just because he knew that Guanheng was seeing a boy. He assumed that it was a boy, though. Guanheng refused to give him any details, and though Dejun suspected that it was weird, improper of him, and unnecessary unless his boy was trouble, he didn’t pressure him.

He had told Guanheng not to use him as a cover-up again, however, or at least to warn him beforehand: a few nights ago, Guanheng’s mom called him because apparently Guanheng had forgotten his medicine at home. Even though Dejun isn’t a good liar, he did his best to assure that yes, Guanheng wasn’t picking up the phone because he was still asleep. He probably was. Dejun simply didn’t know in whose bed.

Just like Dejun, Yukhei or Ten don’t think of the hickey as indecent either: it’s just that none of them had any idea that Guanheng was involved with someone. The look of betrayal on their faces is an omen that they won’t let Guanheng live this down, not after he had the nerve of keeping a _secret_ from them. A boy secret, on top of that.

“Who are you fucking?” Yukhei hisses, rocking his own fingers against his stomach after Guanheng’s slap. “This is outrageous.”

Dejun agrees that it’s outrageous somehow. Guanheng has never dated anyone, or so he claims. When Dejun first joined the golf club – prompted by his father because he deemed that his son didn’t have good company and he wanted Dejun to make friends of his own _level_ – Guanheng hadn’t even kissed anyone. That achievement was claimed by Ten during a party he threw when his parents were away; Guanheng was already eighteen, and Ten had said to _fuck it, just kiss me and move on with your life_ , and that was exactly what they had done.

Dejun was still of the opinion that Guanheng should have waited for someone he really liked, but he knew that first kisses only had the importance one gave to them, and Guanheng just wanted to get rid of that rock on his shoulders. Besides, Ten was a good kisser – not that Dejun had experienced it himself, but he had heard about it.

Three years later, Guanheng has evidently had a lot more of opportunities to kiss boys, and he’s not sharing any of them with his friends.

“It’s none of your business, is it?” Guanheng retorts, prideful, lifting his chin. The effect he’s looking for is diminished by how he clings onto his own t-shirt, afraid that one of his friends will try to undress him again. When Yukhei gasps at the response, Guanheng corrects himself, “I mean- I’m not fucking anyone!”

“Please, boys, lower your voices,” Kun supplies. Dejun almost forgot he was in the room, given his silence, if it’s possible to forget that Qian Kun exists (Note: it’s not possible, not for Dejun, but he doesn’t speak about that. Ever). “My cousin is in the next room and he has a crush on Guanheng.”

Guanheng scoffs at Kun, momentarily distracted by such statement, “Yangyang doesn’t have a crush on me.”

Dejun doesn’t even understand why Kun would think so, but he looks very convinced when he asks, “How could you know?”

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

If Dejun has learned something in four years of friendship with a bunch of rich kids that spend their free time in a golf club, is that secrets can’t be kept for too long. And at this very moment, Guanheng is carrying too many secrets on his own back, so that’s bound to explode sooner or later. Maybe because Yukhei and Ten will make sure it happens, but the rule still upholds itself.

Despite the aura of mystery and indignation around Guanheng, Ten’s attention shifts from him to Dejun. Dejun looks back at him, unsuspecting, not understanding what message Ten is trying to send him.

It takes him a second to realize that unlike the rest of his friends, Dejun isn’t surprised. He isn’t indignant, or ready to discover all of Guanheng’s secrets. And Ten, who has trained himself to navigate in a society full of liars, catches on that tiny detail with ease.

“You,” he points his index finger at Dejun, accusing, “are too silent.”

All heads turn to him in unison. Dejun hates _that_ , but he’s used to it. Ten always has an eye on him, and when he finds the right moment, he manages to make everyone’s attention focus on Dejun just to put pressure on him, to push his buttons. After so much time with Ten, Dejun should have learned to control his own nerves, but having Kun’s questioning gaze on him is the key to make him nervous.

“I don’t care about Guanheng’s sexual life,” Dejun assures Ten, flipping his hair to the side in an attempt to hide his expression. “About any of yours, actually.”

But Ten isn’t stupid. His pupils shine with suspicion as he leans over the table and shoves his plate away; it’s a strategy to bother Dejun, and his gaze momentarily travels to Kun, whose chopsticks are frozen on a piece of meat as he waits for Dejun’s explanations. Dejun swears he’d punch Ten right there and right then: Dejun has never discussed his feelings with Ten, but Ten knows. He knows everything, always, and can detect every tiny sign of Dejun’s painful crush on Kun. If just Kun could notice, too, his life would be much easier.

That’s how Dejun knows that this is a threat. It’s Ten’s way to warn him that hey, _I have your little secret in my hands, and you have Guanheng’s little secret in your hands, so we could trade them_. Except that Dejun doesn’t hold any real power over Guanheng, and therefore he can’t buy Ten’s silence.

With a stern expression, Dejun’s only weapon is to glare at Ten. Ten understands the rejection, straightens up in his chair, and turns his head to Guanheng with a smirk on his lips. Dejun is aware that he’s about to fall, that Ten is going to drag him down for not surrendering, but he’s bound to watch the disaster happen.

“I didn’t know Dejun had so much talent in his mouth,” Ten sing-songs, propping his chin on the palm of his hand.

Guanheng isn’t the only one who pales.

Dejun feels all his blood draw away from his face, and when he glances at Kun in panic, he finds him with the semblance of someone who has just witnessed a murder. Dejun gets it, okay? Imagining that he and Guanheng are together can be very traumatic.

Choking on his own saliva, Guanheng replies, “W-what?”

“Don’t stutter!” Dejun chides him with a gasp. “Why are you stuttering?”

It’s stupid, and Dejun knows how that makes them look: guilty. As if Dejun had actually pushed Guanheng on the bed and sucked a red, ugly hickey on his collarbone – and Ten and Yukhei ignore this, but Dejun has seen his other hickeys, and he isn’t the kind of person that would inflict that.

Guanheng protests, “It took me by surprise!”

Yukhei laughs, playing along with Ten, and pats Dejun on the back, “You have a sucking talent, man.”

“Stop it,” Dejun grunts. Kun isn’t looking at him anymore, but Dejun’s attention is on him, and he has to admit that Kun is either going to vomit or ditch his friends forever for being such animals. “That’s not funny at all.”

“You know what’s not funny?” Ten pouts at him across the table, faking sadness. “That you go around biting Guanheng. We want you two to have a healthy relationship.”

And Yukhei adds, “You’re our friends, we _care_ about you.”

Exasperated, Dejun merely rolls his eyes, moving away from the useless fight. Unlike him, Guanheng has the nerve to laugh at Yukhei’s remark, slapping a hand over his own mouth so that Dejun doesn’t kill him for betraying him.

And see, Dejun is sure that Yukhei and Ten’s humor is pretty funny to some extent, but Kun looks far from amused, and Dejun can’t encourage any jokes that make Kun miserable. Perhaps he’s just having a bad day, and Dejun isn’t going to take any risks.

The thing is, Dejun doesn’t like golf.

There are many reasons why the golf Club became a place he’s fond of, but hitting a ball with a stick under the sun, only protected by a cap and generally surrounded by old men that have a huge urge to pretend and show off, isn’t his perfect definition of entertainment.

Dejun had fallen in love with other aspects. With Guanheng, Ten, Yukhei and Kun, for starters; with Yukhei’s loud, noisy personality, that brought so much embarrassment to them but that it was so rare and special in a society that was all façade; with Guanheng’s innocent, yet fearless attitude, like a small animal that couldn’t accommodate to the cruel ways of the world; and with Ten, the big force that had always pushed and pulled Dejun to get out of his shell, who had introduced him to a hundred of persons and had made him experience a flood of new things, for better and for worse.

And Kun, well. Kun was Kun. Dejun had fallen in love with him, plainly and simply, because that was how love worked. Kun was the one who balanced all of them, except Dejun. He controlled Yukhei’s noise, calmed him down when the situation turned ugly, or when it was just not appropriate. He protected Guanheng when someone tried to take advantage of him, for he was an easy target: a stern glance from Kun was enough to scare anyone away. And when it came to Ten, even though he’d never admit it, it was Kun who always had gotten him out of trouble.

For Dejun, Kun isn’t his balance. Kun is his complement. The only person that can understand him with a mere glance. The only person that doesn’t push him, but that accepts him with all his flaws and _boring_ ideas and unrealistic, utopian dreams; the one who listens when everyone else is screaming.

Dejun frequents the golf Club regardless of if his friends are there or not. He likes how empty and silent it is during Monday mornings, no kids, no working adults around, just elders and a few college boys that don’t need to attend classes because mom and dad are paying for their grades.

That’s why Lee Donghyuck stands in front of him, in the middle of the cafeteria, interrupting his reading session, his golf club intertwined with his right leg and a towel around his shoulders: because he doesn’t have to attend college, and therefore he can afford bothering Dejun at ten in the morning.

“Up for a Scramble, Xiao?” Donghyuck asks, a question that doesn’t seem to accept a rejection.

Dejun doesn’t lift his gaze from his book, but he perches his finger on the last line he was reading.

“Where are your friends?” Dejun shoots back.

“I’d like to know that, too. “ Donghyuck smiles at him, and with all the entitlement in the world, he grabs Dejun’s book and closes it with a loud thump. He’s all teeth as Dejun glowers at him for such bravery, but Donghyuck has never cared much about making enemies. “I could only find Jeno and Yangyang.”

Donghyuck wouldn’t be here otherwise. Dejun is terrible at playing golf, while Renjun and Jaemin are two freaks that practice for hours just to be able to beat their own friends. Donghyuck doesn’t want him because he needs Dejun’s skills, but because he needs his presence in a team to be able to play at all.

Dejun tilts his head, amused, “You must be really desperate to resort to me.”

“I’m doing you a favor,” Donghyuck answers, so quick that anyone would assume he was ready for it. He runs a hand through his hair, evaluating Dejun’s semblance, and says, “You always look so sad when your boyfriend isn’t around.”

Dejun scoffs. “Kun isn’t my boyfriend.”

The fact that even Donghyuck, who isn’t close to him, is aware of his crush on Kun should irk him. Not because he’s painfully obvious, but because he’s obvious for everyone except Kun himself.

That’s what Dejun tells himself, at least, since the alternative is that Kun is avoiding the topic just to not directly kill Dejun’s hope.

“You’re so cute,” Donghyuck coos at him. Dejun blinks up at him, befuddled, and Donghyuck explains, “I didn’t even mention Kun.”

Just a game of Scramble, and Dejun will be free. If he doesn’t accept, Donghyuck is going to torment him with this tiny slip of his for months, and the last thing Dejun needs in his life is another rich kid manipulating him.

Dejun stands up, shoves his book in his backpack, and promises himself that he’s going to get over Kun, sooner or later, before the whole golf Club starts thinking they’re married.

“Fair enough,” Dejun gives in, and Donghyuck’s smile shines in triumph.

Among all his friends, Kun was the last one Dejun got to meet.

Kun told him, months later, that his first impression of Dejun hadn’t been the best. Dejun has never blamed him for it: his introduction had been through Ten dragging Dejun, literally dragging him, into an event Kun’s parents had organized. Dejun doesn’t remember what the event was about, but half of the youth of the Golf Club was there, and Dejun was too much of a novelty for people to ignore him.

Dejun isn’t the most elegant person in the world, but he’s delicate, yet Kun had seen the opposite: a new friend of Ten, as boisterous and dangerous as Ten himself.

Though first impressions changed afterwards, Dejun vowed to never reveal what he had thought of Kun at first sight. In his defense, he was just seventeen, still in high school, and Kun was a university student that could make the whirlwind of Ten’s existence subdue with a single word. _Of course_ Dejun had been weak for him. It was inevitable.

He doesn’t have any excuse to explain his current state, however.

“So it’s not you,” Ten states on Sunday night, while they wait for Yukhei in his living room. Both Ten and Dejun arrived at his home late, aware that Yukhei is never on time when they have plans, and even with that in mind, Yukhei is taking extra time to prepare himself tonight. “That’s pretty clear.”

Dejun throws a resigned look at his friend. “That was always clear.”

Ten shrugs.

“I wasn’t sure.” He leans his head backwards, peeking at the coiled stairs that lead to the second floor, almost like his impatience will rush Yukhei. “You can’t imagine what sex does to people. You wouldn’t be the first guy to ruin a completely platonic, perfect friendship out of horniness.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me, Dejun, I have an amazing sense of self-control when it comes to sex,” Ten retorts, too offended for Dejun to believe him. Ten has matured in the last few years, but when Dejun first met him, he was a mess, and especially with boys. “So, no idea who left the hickeys on Guanheng?”

Dejun shakes his head.

“He won’t drop a word.” That’s an understatement, for the last time Dejun tried to snoop into the topic, Guanheng threatened Dejun with not buying food for him in the next two years. “I’m actually afraid of who he might be hiding.”

That doubt floats between them like a disaster waiting to happen, and though Dejun isn’t feeling all that dramatic, all of them know that Guanheng can’t be trusted with life decisions. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he was dating some high profile delinquent. Delinquency and rich young boys aren’t that far apart, anyway.

But then Ten clears his throat, and in a whisper, he asks, “What if it’s Kun?”

Dejun has never been punched in his stomach, but the way his guts twist at the question has to be the most similar thing he has experienced.

There’s no trace of guilt in Ten’s face when Dejun glowers at him, and he wonders for a moment if he proposed that possibility on purpose. To avenge that Dejun won’t share all the information he holds. The worst part is that Ten’s theory isn’t crazy. Kun wasn’t shocked at the revelation. He was tense. And most important, he didn’t seem to be interested in finding out who Guanheng was seeing.

Dejun shouldn’t assume, but Kun either is the culprit or, like Dejun, he already knew about Guanheng’s adventures.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dejun whines, feeling how the world collapses piece by piece on him. Ten pats his head, guffaws a laugh – because oh, Ten is aware of what he’s doing to Dejun – and waits for the next complaint. “Do you hate me this much?”

“Just wanted to see your reaction,” Ten merrily replies. “Kun is so chaste, I’m worried for him. He hasn’t dated anyone in years.”

The old tale of the man that is so self-absorbed that doesn’t have time to fall in love. Dejun would like to point out that they’re responsible for making Kun’s life harder as well, especially Ten, so they can’t suddenly act like they could become the saviors of Kun’s love life.

“Most of us haven’t,” Dejun reminds him, much to his own dishonor.

“But you have excuses.” Ten wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Your excuse is love. Guanheng’s excuse _was_ his innocence. Yukhei’s excuse was that he preferred kissing half of the city instead of dating them.”

Well, Dejun thinks, he can just be grateful that Kun hasn’t dated anyone during all these years. He doesn’t think he could have dealt with Kun hooking up with half of the city, like Yukhei did. Not just because he would be jealous, though he _would_ be, but because a boyfriend or a girlfriend or whatever preference Kun has, would have robbed a lot of time from them. Dejun wouldn’t have been able to spend a nonsensical amount of time with Kun. _Nonsensical_ because they don’t always hang out with a purpose. Sometimes they just meet to keep each other company, and Dejun stays perched on one of his books while Kun is on his phone, classifies the documents of his family’s business, or marathons some guilty pleasure TV show that Dejun can’t stand. Sometimes they just lie down and talk. Sometimes they don’t need to talk at all.

“So you think Kun doesn’t have an excuse?” Dejun chews on that, pensive.

Ten lifts his eyebrows. “He doesn’t.”

Not that they know of.

The party is _boring_.

Dejun expected it to be, however, because the social parties their parents organize are just a disguised justification to do business. They’re supposed to attend for the sake of their own network, and to some extent so that their parents can brag about them, and even if Dejun doesn’t mind them, some nights they just happen to be a waste of time.

Yukhei’s parents are no exception, though Dejun admits that their personalities resemble Yukhei’s enough for their parties to differ from the rest. Hence why Dejun allows himself to drink more than he should, surrounded by a false sense of safety and boredom.

People are dancing, which is an oddity itself, and he lets go for once, realizing that otherwise he’ll spend the night sulking over Kun, over Kun and his secrets, over Kun and his indifference towards Dejun’s feelings. The conversation with Ten hasn’t done him any good, for he keeps wondering _what if_. What if Guanheng is really hiding a relationship with Kun? That would explain why he refuses to disclose the name of the mysterious boy. Everyone knows that Dejun has been hooked on Kun for so long that it would be a personal betrayal if any of his friends even dared to crush on Kun for two seconds.

Dejun is a lightweight, though, and with those thoughts spinning in his head, he decides to stop drinking expensive white Champagne right in time not to embarrass himself. He sits at a table with Donghyuck, Ten and Jaemin, and observes the party with hawk eyes, hoping to catch any hint that confirms his emotional disaster.

Guanheng is laughing with Jeno and Renjun by the pool, their calves inside the water and their shoes discarded on the border. Kun is far away from them, talking to Dejun’s mother, since he’s the only one who bothers to prompt conversation with adults – because like he always says, they already are adults, too.

“I was telling _him_ ,” Donghyuck greets Dejun, pointing his head at Ten. Dejun plops down next to him in confusion, but he doesn’t remark that Donghyuck should explain the context before dragging him into the conversation. Donghyuck doesn’t care, too heated up by whatever they’re discussing, and continues, “Guanheng hangs out with us too often lately. He’s definitely not dating Kun.”

Dejun sends Ten a disapproving glance, incredulous at how he’s bringing up this problem even to people they’re not close to. Ten will do anything just to find out Guanheng’s secret boyfriend. But it’s a relief, really, to be told that when Guanheng disappears, part of that time is dedicated to Donghyuck’s group of friends, not to clandestine meetings with Kun. That kills a lot of possibilities, and therefore a lot of Dejun’s insecurities.

“I think you’re giving this too much importance,” Jaemin cuts in, sipping on his drink. He taps his lips together, his eyes fixed on Ten. “If it’s serious, Guanheng will end up telling you, won’t he?”

Ten narrows his eyes at him, “If he doesn’t get killed first.”

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but Dejun finds that extremely funny. “You don’t get it, Jaemin. He’s incapable of seeing any wrong in people.”

It must be an interesting fact, because Jaemin raises his eyebrows at him, and then his gaze naturally shifts to the pool, where Guanheng is currently leaning against Jeno’s shoulder.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Jaemin distractedly muses, and then, remembering that he’s not alone, he displays one of his polite smiles for Dejun. “You speak about him like he’s a baby.”

Dejun wonders why there's a slight tone of defiance in Jaemin's tone. Perhaps Guanheng has complained to them about how his friends treat him – _baby_ him. Dejun isn't going to stop, though, and he doubts Kun, Yukhei and Ten will, so it's positive that Guanheng is developing a link with people that encourage a different side of him.

Jaemin doesn't insist, and Ten and Donghyuck's chatter drowns their previous conversation. Dejun doesn't pay them much attention. He follows Kun through the party, thoughts clawing at his mind – naive and not so naive thoughts, because the suit Kun is wearing is torture to Dejun’s pride and sanity. No one in their group is wearing a suit, and in general they don’t unless the party explicitly requires it, but Kun made sure to jump into his black tight pants and a white shirt perfectly tucked that marks every curve and road of his body.

When Kun shakes hands with Yein, one of the best golf players of the club, Dejun notices that he's wearing the wristband Dejun gifted him for his birthday. It was meant to be a joke of a gift, since it had cost him two dollars at a second-hand street market, but Kun had developed a strange fondness towards it.

The sight makes Dejun's insides tingle, and as if Kun can smell his nervousness, the next thing he knows is that they're locking eyes across the garden. Dejun doesn't look away. And Kun doesn't, either, but he manages to wrap up his conversation with Yein with enough delicacy not to offend her.

The way Kun strides to their table provokes an unusual guilt inside Dejun. He lattches onto the first drink he can grab – probably Donghyuck's, but he's always been too generous to care – and avoids Kun as he arrives at their table. He doesn't mention why he's coming to Dejun's rescue, or why it gives off that impression; he just exchanges lazy nods with Donghyuck and Jaemin, and then joins them.

He sits next to Dejun, of course, because he's here for _him_. Dejun deliberately ignores him, even though Kun sets a hand on his thigh to draw his attention, and Jaemin lets out an awkward cough as to warn him that they shouldn't fight in front of them.

Dejun doesn't even know what they're fighting about, or when it started. He just knows they are, and he doesn’t know how to discuss it. Kun hasn't directed a word to him in the whole week, unless Dejun shot a direct question at him, and Kun barely showed up at the club despite Ten inviting him to play several times. And yes, Dejun could have supposed that Kun was mad at another person, but his behavior doesn't extend to the rest of his friends, and Dejun is sensible enough not to fool himself.

Plus, Dejun is feeling quite petty over the mere possibility of Kun liking Guanheng; it's like having a bad dream about someone, and after waking up, having a trace of rancor towards them even if the real person never did anything wrong. So he doesn’t have spirit to chase after Kun like a puppy, begging for explanations, for forgiveness.

Their table empties just after a few minutes, as though their friends can detect their tension, and Dejun sulks in his seat, not understanding why Kun would stay with him after the behavior he has displayed all week.

But Kun is obviously waiting for the right moment, for them to be alone, because as soon as Donghyuck slips out of his seat with an uncomfortable smile, Kun twists on his seat and asks, “Everything alright?”

Dejun has the urge to laugh at him. It’s very childish, for he's throwing an inner tantrum over his crush ignoring him, and he can't disclose that to Kun himself. He has done a good job at building his mature image, even if Kun never bought it, and he’s not going to throw all that away.

Lying won't fool Kun, however, so Dejun answers a sincere, “No.”

The small frown that creases on Kun's face, Dejun realizes, is incredibly cute. It reminds Dejun that Kun worries about him sometimes, that he _cares_ , no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

“Why?”

It takes all of Dejun's self-control not to bite out a sharp reply. Still, despite his effort, he comes off as rude when he stares into Kun's eyes and challenges him, “You tell me, Kun.”

It's not his words. It's the tone. Dejun never speaks like that, and less to him.

Kun gives him a stern look, but his hand folds over Dejun's hand, both on his drink. Dejun doesn’t fight against it, but for a second he laments losing his drink in favor of Kun’s control. Maybe it’s for the better. Kun would never do it for the worse.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Kun observes, so softly that it looks like he fears Dejun will pick a fight just for the drink.

Dejun could believe that Kun is chiding him, but he doesn’t miss the small smile he’s trying to repress. Dejun is too drunk for this, too drunk for Kun and his tiny cute gestures.

“Always policing me,” he muses to the air, eyes drifting to the sky.

Deep inside, he hopes that Kun doesn’t abandon him, because he’s not in the state to hold a decent conversation with anyone, and he fears he’ll embarrass his parents if he tries.

“Always?” Kun repeats, amused. He never polices Dejun, for the mere fact that Dejun doesn’t need to be policed. Kun has to take care of many of his friends, but Dejun isn’t one of them. “Too much champagne turns you into a rogue.”

That’s exaggeration too, a dumb one on top of that, so Dejun can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest. When Kun laughs along, Dejun realizes that Kun is trying to make him laugh, to lighten the mood.

Under the table, Dejun gives him a soft kick, “Ah, don’t you prefer talking to my mom? She’s more entertaining than me.”

The emotion that crosses Kun’s expression is _new_ for Dejun. He has no idea what it implies, but Kun doesn’t give him time to find out on his own.

“She’s boring as fuck,” he states, like insulting Dejun’s mother is the most natural thing in the world. He scrutinizes Dejun’s expression, blank, and lifts his eyebrows. “Not as boring as your father, though.”

If Dejun wasn’t feeling heartbroken over this stupid boy, he’d believe this is a dream. Kun would never disrespect his parents, but right now he is, dead serious, almost like he’s studying what reaction he’ll get from Dejun. Dejun can’t stop himself: he bursts into laughter, head falling on Kun’s shoulder, and holds onto him until Kun’s chest is vibrating as well.

He agrees that his parents are boring, but the fact that Kun is admitting so after years of licking their feet is hilarious. It makes Dejun wonder why Kun tries so hard with his parents, anyhow, why he’s always looking for approval. Dejun already likes him too much to bathe in the fact that he’s a decent man that will politely comply with his parents’ wishes.

“I think you had enough, too,” he muses against Kun’s arm.

Because Kun’s cheeks are slightly pink, and he laughs with a lack of tension that Dejun adores, and he knows that it’s just because, like Dejun himself, Kun drank too much just to be able to approach him. Dejun wishes they weren’t mad at each other, and yet they are. And sooner or later, the bubble is going to burst.

“Who do you think you are to play my cousin?”

It’s a chain of events: Dejun startles, jumps on his own toes, and slams his locker shut, not remembering to pull his other hand away in time. When he screams out in pain, Yangyang doesn’t even look a tiny bit guilty. He has hit the locker next to Dejun just to scare him, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t worry about Dejun hurting himself.

The pain eclipses Yangyang’s words for a moment. Just one moment, though, because soon Dejun bites on the implications of that question. Yangyang is talking about Kun. And Dejun would be damned if he’s the _one_ playing him.

“Alright,” Dejun hisses. He waves his hand, looks in terror at the swelling of his own fingers, and makes a great effort to focus on Yangyang’s furious semblance. “Slower, Yangyang. With context.”

Dejun doesn’t frequent the locker room, since he barely plays golf when he’s at the club, and he knows the kind of things that happen at the locker room. Confrontations, for example. Nowhere like a locker room to ambush the person you want to fight, which is proven by how Yangyang has waited for him to step in to follow him.

There are a few aspects of the situation that make Dejun wary. First of all, anger isn’t an emotion that exists in Yangyang’s book, so if Yangyang is mad at him, Dejun should be concerned about his own well being. Second, Dejun suspects what could have pushed Yangyang to the edge, and fears that he won’t have an excuse to protect himself.

“He’s been moping for _days_ ,” Yangyang snarls, and the revelation hits Dejun in the bottom of his throat. Before he can reason that Kun isn’t moping for him, Yangyang clicks his tongue and continues, “And don’t try to tell me it’s not because of you, because I know as a matter of fact that Kun cares only about you, so only you fucking up would have this effect on him.”

Dejun _can’t_ argue. He gapes at Yangyang like a fool, for that’s how he feels, what he is. Kun takes care of everyone, and Dejun isn’t special, but Yangyang seems to disagree.

Clearing the knot in his throat, Dejun tries to calm down.

“I’d love to answer you, really, and I’d love to know as well,” Dejun tells Yangyang, pulling his best innocent face. It doesn’t count as manipulation, since Dejun truly shares the sentiment, but Yangyang frowns at him like he’s a monster. “I have no fucking idea of what’s going on with Kun.”

Yangyang doesn’t believe him. It irks Dejun, who has been moping just as much, if not more than Kun could ever mope. But he has no one to ambush Kun in a locker room and force him to be kind to him.

“Listen,” Yangyang whispers. Even though he lowers his voice and leans forwards, he doesn’t sound or look less threatening. His fingers tap over Dejun’s locker, as to prevent him from opening it. “I saw you two kiss.”

Dejun’s whole world collapses in tiny pieces.

No one knew about that. No one, Dejun discovers now, except Yangyang. Two weeks later, Kun and he haven’t discussed the kiss, and of course that brought the need of pretending nothing had happened at all. Dejun hates it. He’s not the sort of person that kisses a friend and then disregards what led to it, but Kun’s silence sharpened his insecurities, and so he avoided the topic.

As rare as Dejun playing a game was, he had accepted Kun’s invitation to the club on a Sunday. It was night by the time Kun arrived, and it was almost impossible to play in the darkness: Dejun had known, since the beginning, that Kun hadn’t called him for a friendly meeting. They had strolled around the fields, had talked and talked for around two hours, and then they had sat in the porch. They hadn’t played.

Dejun doesn’t remember much, apart from his own heartbeat in his ears and the trembling of his legs. He vaguely remembers Kun calling him pretty, smiling that tiny smile of his, and he remembers how he had expected Kun’s kisses to be sweet, but they had been obscene and wanting. Dejun couldn’t relive it without bursting into flames.

And god, he should have known better. Kissing in the porch of the main building of the golf Club is dangerous, and secret kisses are meant to stay secret.

“You-” Dejun stutters. “That’s _so_ intrusive.”

Yangyang sends him an incredulous, skeptic look.

“You can’t kiss my cousin and then act like nothing happened, got it?” he insists, invading Dejun’s personal space until he can’t stare at anything but him. Yangyang isn’t joking. In fact, judging his expression, he takes this problem too seriously. “And the other day at the party you had the nerve to be all touchy with him after making him suffer for a whole week. He has feelings too, you know?” Yangyang lifts his index finger to silence Dejun’s attempt at interrupting him. “You aren’t going to play my cousin, do we agree on that?”

Dejun is beyond dumbfounded. Even if he ever intended to play with someone’s feelings, he wouldn’t even know how to begin. The fact that Yangyang considers him capable or just able to break a boy’s heart, especially Kun’s, is ridiculous.

“Hey, this is not my fault!” Dejun protests at last.

Or it wasn’t, in the beginning.

Yangyang glowers. He clashes his palm against Dejun’s locker, making him startle for a second time, and grunts, “Fix it.”

There's no room to complain, to explain himself. Yangyang's order is a threat, Dejun is aware of that. One doesn't fuck with Yangyang's relatives and gets away with it, and it doesn't matter that Dejun is innocent as long as Yangyang believes in his own theory.

When his response is silence, Yangyang draws a satisfied smile. He retreats, giving Dejun space to breathe, and irons his own shirt with his hands.

“That kiss was disgusting, by the way,” he adds, stepping back. It's a game for him, for how he laughs at Dejun's shock, but for Dejun it's much more serious: it's horrible that what he thought was an intimate moment with Kun, it's a moment shared with his damn cousin. “You two look like the type to be cheesy and romantic, but I guess appearances can’t be trusted.”

Dejun feels his body burn hot for the next five hours.

Dejun can't fix a problem if he doesn't know what the problem is.

“Oh, he's mad at _you_?” Guanheng says, surprised. His attention drifts from his assignment to Dejun's face for the first time this afternoon. Even though they were inside the house at first, they moved to the garden after a while, sure that a bit of fresh air would clear their minds. “I thought he was just stressed. He’s been treating me like a bug too.”

All in all, Dejun deems that information valuable. He was doubtful about sharing the story with Guanheng, but it's a relief that he hasn't been the only one – apart from Yangyang – that has noticed Kun's odd behavior. In fact, it's a relief that Kun's anger isn't directed solely at him, as mean and egoistic as that sounds.

“That's weird,” Dejun muses to himself.

“Right?” Guanheng agrees. He doesn’t realize or mind that Dejun wasn’t addressing him. “I was wondering if it was one of those _older brother that gets grumpy when his little sibling starts dating_ things, but it makes a lot more of sense that he's moody because of you.”

Dejun is torn between feeling offended or flattered. Considering everyone is sure that he has a supernatural power over Kun, they should have told him earlier. Dejun prides himself in his knowledge on love issues, but he has to admit that it’s harder when one is involved. Maybe he has been too rough on Yukhei and Ten all these years.

Sighing, Dejun rubs his own eyes. He barely slept last night, and tonight isn’t looking better.

“That's the thing, I did nothing to him,” he claims.

“Nothing?” Guanheng presses him, biting his lower lip.

Maybe it was the kiss. Maybe Yangyang is right.

Dejun looks behind Guanheng, trying to come up with any other excuse that could explain how their relationship is in ruins, but there isn’t any. Their lives haven’t taken a sudden turn, their routines remain intact, and the kiss is the only event that has broken the pattern.

Defeated, Dejun mutters, “Yangyang says it's because of the kiss.”

Guanheng drops his pen on the floor, a dramatic gasp whistling between his lips. Dejun stares at him, confused, before remembering that _oh_ , Guanheng didn’t know that.

“You kissed him?” Guanheng nearly screams. Dejun hurls himself over the wooden table in panic, just in time to cover Guanheng's mouth. He can't risk any of Guanheng's family overhearing them: no matter their age, gossip is the biggest force among them. Guanheng, however, slaps his hand away and frowns at him, not disposed to let this go. “Dejun! What the fuck? You didn't think this was important information to tell your best friend?”

Dejun scoffs. “My best friend?”

“I'll _murder_ you, dude.”

Leaning back on his chair, Dejun gives himself a moment to think. Sooner or later, he'd have ended up revealing this secret, and Guanheng was bound to react that way. A kiss is too much of a big deal for Dejun and Kun – it wouldn't be the same if Yukhei and Ten had kissed, for example – and Dejun wonders if Kun told anyone about it. Clearly not Guanheng.

Dejun analyzes his friend across the table, his assignment long forgotten. Guanheng assumed that he was the only one with a secret, and Dejun revels for a second in the indignation painted on his face, the realization of their betrayal.

Guanheng isn't entitled to know about his love life, unless it's reciprocal.

That's why Dejun smirks at him and points out, “You have no right to use this against me when you refuse to tell me who you're dating.” Which is, whether he likes it or not, the truth. Justice. Guanheng's face falls, because he’s aware of Dejun's intentions. Dejun feels happiness bloom in his chest. “Where did you go last night?”

Guanheng presses his lips into a line, but it's not out of anger: it's just the resignation of someone who has lost at last.

“You really want to know?” he challenges Dejun, crossing his arms over his stomach. He waits for Dejun to nod, as though he hopes for a last chance, and then shoots, “I was at Renjun's house.”

Dejun rolls his eyes. “Nice joke.”

Guanheng _glares_ at him, but that doesn't convince Dejun either. If Guanheng wants to lie to him, he'll have to try harder.

“I'm not joking,” he insists in disinterest. With a shrug, he continues, “He cooked for me, we made out, I blew him, and then I had to go back home.”

There's a pause, and Dejun feels his blood freeze, his heart halt altogether. He racks his eyes all over Guanheng's expression, looking for a hint that gives him away, but there isn't any. Dejun doesn't want to believe Guanheng's words, yet he does, because he knows when his friend is lying.

With a knot in his throat, Dejun grumbles, “Renjun is Jaemin's boyfriend.”

His boyfriend of three years, as far as Dejun is informed. Guanheng wouldn't dare to-

“Correct.”

“He's cheating on him?” Dejun's voice cracks, and he has to stop talking for a long while, for he feels like the world is spinning around him too fast. They should have supervised Guanheng, he tells himself, he isn't _that_ innocent. “You're not the type of person who does this! What's wrong with you? Jaemin is a nice guy, and even if he wasn't, you can't just-”

“No, dude,” Guanheng cuts in, horror in his face. It's that what prompts Dejun to take a breath, to consider hearing out Guanheng's explanations, but he's ready to go on with his scolding when Guanheng adds, “I'm dating Renjun. _And_ I'm dating Jaemin.”

“You're what?”

Guanheng's scowl deepens.

“I've just told you,” he says, like a parent tired of giving orders. But Dejun doesn't comprehend what Guanheng is suggesting, or he does, but his mind can't wrap itself around the concept. Guanheng lets out a pained grunt, head hanging low. “See, this is why we're keeping it a secret. We knew no one would understand what's going on, and to be fair I'm not sure I know what I'm doing either.”

Dejun waves at Guanheng to grab his attention. He doesn't want to be the reason Guanheng decides he should be ashamed of his relationship with his _boyfriends_. Sure, Dejun can't share the sentiment, and it even flusters him a bit to think that a settled up couple has taken Guanheng into their lives without hesitation, he’s no one to judge him. Renjun and Jaemin are so far into their relationship that there's no way Guanheng could have progressed slowly with them. The hickeys are proof of it, Dejun supposes.

Under Dejun's silence, Guanheng nervously shifts on his seat.

“What?” he asks, unsure, like he would prefer Dejun to scream at him.

Dejun smiles, the prospect of a laugh playing on his tongue. All the pieces fit now. Guanheng with Renjun on the pool, clinging on Jeno instead just to keep up with appearances.

Donghyuck telling him that Guanheng had been hanging out with them too often. And, at last, “Jaemin looked so bothered at the party because we insinuated that your boyfriend could be dangerous.”

It takes Guanheng a while to comprehend the situation, but when he does, both of them break into a fit of small giggles. Nothing like a secret to offend your best friend's new boyfriend.

Dejun _tries_ , tries very hard, but for some reason, each day that passes seems to harden Kun’s disposal.

They’ve never been the type to text often, but Kun always responded his messages right away. Now, all of Dejun’s messages are left on read. When he approaches Kun to talk in private, Kun always has a place to go, an urgent task to finish, or a person to meet. Kun stays only if their friends are there, and so Dejun stares at him with hopeful eyes during their dinners together, during their dumb golf games, or when Ten drags all of them to drink, a desperate plea that falls flat for Kun.

It maddens Dejun to an extent that he has never experienced. He doesn’t understand Kun, or doesn’t want to understand him. If the kiss was important for him, then he shouldn’t be acting like an asshole, and even if it wasn’t, that doesn’t justify that he’s ruining their friendship just on the basis that Dejun might ask something else from him. Especially because Dejun hasn’t given him any signs, besides the kiss, and besides the fact that everyone – except Kun himself – seems to know that he has been hung up on Kun for years.

But, throughout all these years, Dejun has grown to know Kun’s weaknesses. He hates losing a game. He’s still heartbroken over the fact that Dejun went on vacation last year without bidding him goodbye in person first. He can’t stand horror movies, even though he accepts every time Dejun wants to watch one, and spends half of the movie pretending that he’s not suffering. And most important, his biggest weakness is that he’s incapable of being rude in front of their parents.

Dejun takes advantage of that.

Like every year, the golf Club organizes an event to celebrate the beginning of the summer tournaments. For once, Dejun signs up, though he’s aware that he’ll regret it later, once he has managed to corner Kun and doesn’t need the tournament anymore. He bets that Kun would discard the idea of joining just to avoid Dejun, but Kun will never predict that Dejun will do something so uncharacteristic of him.

Donghyuck, who is in charge of organizing the tournament this year, laughs at him for fifteen minutes straight and promises him that he’ll pair Dejun up with a strong opponent so that he can be eliminated sooner. Dejun appreciates it, but he doesn’t like owing Lee Donghyuck a _favor_.

“It’s the first time in your life that you’re attending this party with us,” Guanheng notices that same morning, wearing a new hickey under his jaw that is going to make Ten and Yukhei go crazy. Perhaps because he has spent too much time with Donghyuck as well, Dejun finds him fixing the last details of the decoration of the restaurant. “Whether it’s for Kun or not, I’m happy.”

Dejun smirks at him, “That’s disgustingly cheesy.”

Guanheng doesn’t even turn around to look at him, too focused on placing the balloons on the right place.

“You can’t talk,” he reminds him, unashamed. “You signed up for the tournament just to have a chance at sucking Kun’s dick.”

Choking on his own saliva, Dejun begins, “That’s not-”

“That’s exactly _it_.”

It’s an overstatement, but it’s not out of Dejun’s plans. He doesn’t know how he’d get to such an intimate point with Kun when he doesn’t even allow Dejun to come close, though. Maybe going on his knees _is_ the key to convince Kun, and Dejun is disposed to sacrifice the last of his pride for it.

Dejun swallows his whole tulip glass of champagne in one go.

Kun is an idiot. An idiot wearing a suit in the middle of an informal party, though he discarded his jacket hours ago and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. It’s a torture. There’s no way Kun looks in the mirror and doesn’t realize the way those clothes stick to his body, how much older and responsible they make him look.

Dejun feels like he’s going to have a heart attack since the first moment he lays his eyes on him, so he sits in a corner to calm himself down, to find the courage that has died as soon as Kun appeared. He curses Kun in his mind a thousand times, watching him laugh and talk non-stop, a blinding smile on his face. A smile Dejun has missed so much that it hurts.

Kun’s joy is broken one hour into the party, when he meets eyes with Dejun across the restaurant. Dejun feels guilty just by seeing the ephemeral shock that crosses his expression, but he’s not here to take pity on Kun. That’s how he has managed to push him away every time, and this is the last chance Dejun is giving him. Fearing that Kun will slip through the door and not come back, Dejun stands up.

And then, it’s a dance. Kun glances at him, intuits his intentions, and steps back. There are so many members of the club that when Kun moves, Dejun loses sight of him. Dejun places his tulip glass on the table and darts for the exit door, hoping that Kun didn’t have enough reason in him to take the back exit. He bumps into a few persons in the way, profusely apologizes – and prays that they’re not his first adversary in the damn tournament – and pants through his mouth all the way to the door.

Kun isn’t there, and as Dejun takes a look through the transparent glass of the doors, it’s clear that he hasn’t gone out either. His concern is short-lived, because one second later Kun is skidding in front of him, as though he had been running to the exit right before catching sight of Dejun. The horror that reflects on his face upon recognizing Dejun would be funny if he wasn’t so desperate to talk to Kun. By instinct, Dejun holds him so that he doesn’t crash against the doors, but that just leads both of them against the glass, a noise that grabs everyone’s attention around them. Dejun’s anger is subdued by the relief of having reached the door before Kun could.

When they detach, there’s a slight blush on Kun’s face, perhaps because he’s not used to making scenes in public.

Clumsily smothering his own suit, Kun regains his balance, and then sends Dejun a resigned glance and groans, “Shit.”

 _Shit_ isn’t enough to describe how Dejun is feeling.

“It’s nice to see you too.”

Kun sighs at the sarcasm, a sign that he’s perfectly aware of the situation he’s involved in. His conduct doesn’t stem from stress, like Guanheng had supposed at first, but from a place of total intent. That realization makes Dejun’s guts twist in discomfort.

“What are you doing here?” Kun asks, reticent. His eyes unconsciously travel to the garden, and then to Dejun, as though he’s looking for the way to run past him. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“But I am.” Dejun tries to sound as intimidating as he can, but his height and his informal clothes aren’t helping against Kun’s suit and his shoe lifts. “You’re not going to run away.”

Kun bites on his lower lip, doubtful, like a kid that has been caught red-handed.

“I’m not running away, okay?”

Dejun might not be the best at reading people’s feelings, but he’s an expert at detecting Kun’s lies, and he’s not going to risk it this time.

“If you move, I’ll make a scene,” Dejun warns him, raising his voice just enough for Kun not to mishear his words. “I’m serious. We either fight in private or I’ll fight you here in front of everyone.”

Kun must recognize the odd determination on his face, because he pales at the threat. It takes him a moment to study the situation, to check how many people Dejun will embarrass him in front of, and decide that it’s not worth it.

“You wouldn’t,” he mumbles, voice is tainted with uncertainty.

Dejun lifts his chin, a defiant smile upon the short moment of power he has. “Try me.”

Kun can’t. It’s visible on his expression, on how he bites harder on his lower lip, in how pitiful he looks when he stares at Dejun, frustrated by his tricks. Despite Dejun wishing for his plan to work, he can’t believe his eyes when Kun surrenders. As Kun grabs his arm and leads him through the restaurant, Dejun tries to gather his thoughts and all the questions he had prepared for Kun. He can’t focus, for he’s having a hard time just keeping up with Kun’s pace; he even catches Yangyang’s confused face in a blur, the way his eyes follow his cousin as if he’s having an epiphany that Kun isn’t so innocent after all.

To Dejun’s luck, Kun walks past the locking room – which Dejun fears, especially with the club filled with people – and past the bathroom of the restaurant, and guides both of them to the backyard of the main building, the old field that no one plays at anymore.

It’s perfect for Kun, Dejun realizes. Unlike the front porch, there are no lights for them to be spied on, and no one likes taking fresh air in the abandoned zone of the club. It’s sort of eerie at night, though Dejun sees the pros of it.

After almost three weeks, they’re alone again, and the memory of Kun’s lips torment Dejun to the last fiber of his body.

Kun lets go of him, turns on his heels and shoves his hands in his pockets, a gesture that Dejun identifies as nervousness. It’s funny how Kun is a mystery for him, and yet so transparent, the small habits that Dejun has picked up from him and that are engraved in his brain. Kun’s dark eyes roam over Dejun’s face, and god, Dejun really wants to know what’s wrong with him, because Kun looks like he’s in _pain._

“So?” Kun prompts him.

“You really don’t have anything to say?” Dejun asks, both impressed and offended. Kun should be thinking about apologizing, but if he doesn’t want to, Dejun will just force other words out of him. He doesn’t need an apology. “Fine. Why did you kiss me?”

Shooting that question is attacking the jugular, like a hungry lion that doesn’t intend to play a chasing game with its prey. Dejun is indeed tired of playing, because Kun always moves faster, smarter. Dejun can never win.

But Kun doesn’t, not tonight. When he stares into Dejun’s eyes, Dejun can read the distress on his face, how much it hurts him to lie again. In fact, he’s unable to face Dejun and lie in his face, so he discreetly lowers his gaze to Dejun’s shoes.

His voice is hoarse as he mumbles, “For no reason.”

It takes all of Dejun’s self-control not to release the bitter laugh that rests on his mouth. It could be true, and then that would destroy him, but Kun would never kiss anyone for no reason.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Kun,” Dejun says, a strange pressure in his chest. He has known Kun for so long that he tends to assume his feelings, but what if Kun is serious? Perhaps it was just a mistake, and the kiss was the confirmation Kun needed to disregard Dejun as an option. It doesn’t always work out, and Kun is human, isn’t perfect, and could have made a mistake. Dejun shouldn’t feel entitled to Kun’s affection just because Kun kissed him; Kun never promised him anything else. “You can’t kiss me and then go around acting like I’m a criminal. If you don’t want anything to do with me, just say it.”

Slowly, Kun opens his mouth, no words coming out. He inspects Dejun’s face as though he intends to discover that this is a joke, or as though he didn’t deem Dejun strong enough to _ask_ for a rejection.

Kun takes too long to answer, so long that Dejun feels ashamed and sad and humiliated, but then Kun says, “What are you talking about?” He shifts on his feet, shakes his head, a frown on his face. “What’s the point of expressing my feelings when you-?”

Instead of finishing his question, Kun runs a hand through his hair, throwing his head back. Dejun understands as little of this conversation as Kun seems to do, so he waits for Kun to continue. Kun doesn’t; he just looks up at the sky, rapidly blinking, gathering his breath in small puffs of air.

Dejun steps forward, equally impatient and dumbfounded, “When I, what?”

The way Kun’s stare falls on him feels like thunder.

“Your relationship with Guanheng,” he dryly replies. And then, like a solved riddle, it all slips into place for Dejun. He lurches forward, reaching out to Kun, a torrent of words in his mouth. Kun moves away, however, aware of Dejun’s intention. “You don’t owe me any explanations. I know you don’t flirt around, but I thought-”

Dejun is _horrified_. He has been looking for an explanation all this time, a reason that assured him that Kun wasn’t avoiding him out of regret, but now that he comprehends Kun’s behavior, dread takes over him.

Dejun never denied that he sucked a hickey on Guanheng’s neck, because damn, he didn’t think it was _necessary_.

But it was. Just like he feared that Kun and Guanheng were dating, despite not having proof of it, Kun believed that Dejun was meeting up with Guanheng behind their backs.

“Kun,” Dejun breathes out, heart racing. “Let me talk.”

“I thought there was something between us,” Kun grunts, not listening to him. Dejun’s racing heart skips at least three beats, because there it is, a small confession that clears all his fears. Kun’s gaze travels to the floor once more. “It’s fine. Guanheng is amazing, and so are you, and I know you love him a lot.”

“Kun!” Dejun protests, louder than he has ever spoken to Kun. Kun lifts his head in shock, perhaps because he doesn’t think Dejun has the right to break his heart _and_ then scream at him. “Can you shut up?”

Though Kun doesn’t look like he wants to obey him, he closes his mouth, clenching his jaw. The curve of his mouth distracts Dejun for a second, but he forces himself to focus, remembers that Kun is hurt for a dumb misunderstanding.

Dejun has never been happier to announce a secret, and most important, to betray a friend. “Guanheng is seeing two boys, and none of those boys is me. Hand on heart, I can assure you that.”

The silence that follows up brings a smile out of Dejun. He observes Kun’s expression as it shifts from sadness to realization, and then from relief to confusion.

“You’re not-?” he begins, the tension of his shoulders dissipating. He narrows his eyes at Dejun, mistrustful. “Wait, _two_ boys?”

Dejun figures that since he already betrayed Guanheng, he should go all the way in.

“Renjun and Jaemin,” he merrily says.

Instead of strengthening his revelation, that kills Kun’s trust in him, but Dejun doesn’t worry. It’s natural to be incredulous, since it’s not usual among them, and it’s even more unrealistic considering that Guanheng is involved.

“You’re fucking with me,” Kun accuses him, like he believes that Dejun would throw a couple and his own friend under the bus just to be free of blame. “They’re boyfriends.”

Dejun’s smile widens until his cheeks hurt. This time, when he approaches Kun, he doesn’t jerk away, maybe because he’s too shocked to care about rejecting Dejun, or maybe because deep inside he’ll accept a lie just to have Dejun in his embrace.

Dejun throws his arms over Kun’s shoulders, interlaces his hands behind his neck. The touch is enough for Kun’s gaze to fix on him, and Dejun looks into his eyes absorbed in a peace that he has never felt before. Kun might not comprehend what’s happening, but he understands Dejun’s body language, understands that Dejun is telling him that there’s nothing to worry about.

“Yes,” Dejun whispers. “And now Guanheng is their boyfriend, too.”

Kun can’t help it: he breaks into a small smile. Dejun observes the way his lips curl up, and when Dejun looks up again, Kun’s attention has also drifted to his mouth. Dejun can’t blame him, neither for finding Guanheng’s love life funny or for thinking about kissing Dejun afterwards. Dejun himself hasn’t stopped thinking about it since the first time.

“Are you making this up to cover up that you made out with him?” Kun mutters, closing his eyes for a moment, his smile becoming wider and wider.

Dejun laughs. “That’s _so_ likely.”

Kun encircles his waist, pulls Dejun closer until they’re pressed against each other. And there might have been just a few instances in which Dejun has been this close to Kun, but it doesn’t feel weird, their bodies molding against each other.

“Don’t tease me,” Kun protests, but he laughs too, an infectious sound that travels through Dejun as well. “God, can you even imagine- I thought you were sleeping with Guanheng.”

Dejun hums, silently agreeing with what Kun seems to be thinking: that he’s an idiot, that he could have asked before spiraling into his own conclusions, that they’ve wasted a lot of time, and that he has ruined what could have been a perfect beginning for them.

“I have better taste than that,” Dejun claims, fingers caressing Kun’s jaw.

When Kun caves into his touch, Dejun’s smile evaporates, and so does Kun’s. Dejun’s breath catches in his throat, and Kun leans in, a flicker of his eyes down to Dejun’s mouth before closing them; Dejun welcomes his lips with the certainty that it won’t be the last time, and tonight, just like the first time, Kun’s kisses aren’t sweet.


End file.
